


Salty Tears Can Still Water the Earth

by amireal



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Clint/Coulson Implied, F/F, Gen, M/M, Marriage Equality, Phil Coulson doesn't need a hug, Victoria Hand/Isabele Hartley implied, aids epidemic, just some time, sad reflections
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4850120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amireal/pseuds/amireal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marriage equality sometimes feels like too little, too fucking late. It's hard to celebrate in a field of tears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salty Tears Can Still Water the Earth

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this the day the supreme court ruled. I hesitated posting it for a number of reasons, content being a biggy. But its been several months and what I think could have a match to a fire can now be taken with a bit more equanimity.
> 
> There's nothing really controversial in here, just a lot of people coming to terms with what should feel like a win, feeling just a tad bit hollow.
> 
> Also the title might actually fall over and die of pretentiousness :/ Sorry?

Marriage Equality

Phil burst into tears. Normally, this wouldn’t overly bother him, but he’d made the mistake of checking the incoming text messages in the middle of a meeting. Honestly, he had nothing against crying. It just wasn’t something that happened to him a lot.

He blinked away the water, using his fingers to flick the largest drops off his face before he could get blotchy, disguising it as careful eye rubbing. Fury looked at him funny when he decided to take the rest of the day off, but there was no way he was going to be able to interact with other people like it was a regular day.

He found himself driving through a long forgotten gate and through twisting streets nestled between hills of graves until he reached a spot of land still so familiar to him. Phil lost a lot of friends over the years, it was hard not to in his line of work. These, however, are the most painful, because they didn’t die for king and country. They died because no one cared. 

The grave markers, for the most part, all held dates between 1983 and 1989. Phil took over the maintenance fees for them at least a decade ago, but he hadn’t been able to visit them in nearly 20 years. Looking at them, it was hard to believe it happened. It wasn’t a day he thought he’d ever see, to be honest. Change felt incrementally slow some times. 

Melinda appeared minutes after he got there. He wasn’t surprised. She was there for this. For him. As much as he has found friendship with others in later years, only Nick and Melinda are his generation. Understood how breathless this made him feel. How hollowly victorious he felt when at the same time he felt proudly free. For the first time in a long time. Tomorrow he’ll find the new benchmark, the new goal he’ll hope to hear about in his lifetime. But today he sat on the grass, tears in his eyes, mourning in celebration and finally feeling like he has a home for the first time in a long time.

“Nick said you could take a vacation if you wanted,” Melinda said quietly. She knew him well enough to judge the quality of his silence. She knew when he was ready to speak. “Go visit some old friends.”

Phil smiled sadly. “There aren’t any left from then. Not that group.”

“Collin and Steven died?” Melinda knew them all. They’d been roommates and young SHIELD agents at the time. She’d been part of his circle of friends and he hers.

Phil nodded. “HIV and a stroke. They went within a few months of each other.”

“Maybe you should make new friends?” She was only half joking, but her lips quirked up in her familiar half smile.

“Maybe,” Phil didn’t really mean it. The thought of it still hurt. He had friends who were agents, but at some point he’d put away the person who would put on jeans and a t shirt and walked the couple of blocks to the bar he had first tentatively scoped out for weeks before walking in, and never took him back out.

They walked through the entire section. Phil watched carefully for the end of names he knew personally, then the end of people whose names he recognized but had never met, like ripples in a pond, relationships spidered out until finally, he didn’t recognize anyone, but there were still so many graves. Melinda took his hand and slowly led him back to the cars.

“Maybe,” Melinda elbowed him as they walked over the last gently sloping hill, “you don’t need to make new friends after all.”

Instead of just two cars, Phil’s and Melinda’s, there were four. Waiting patiently for them was a small knot of people. Nick, Clint, Natasha, Maria, Victoria and Isabelle.

“Come on,” Nick said as soon as they were close enough, “we’re getting drunk.”

“Happy drunk,” Clint said quietly. He wasn’t smiling, but he looked relieved to see Phil.

“Disgustingly drunk,” Victoria said. Her eyes looked a bit red around the edges. She hadn’t come to the east coast until later. He’d forgotten she’d lived through it too, Isabelle also, even if only part of it.    
“Good drunk,” Phil nodded, remembering that just because he was the sole survivor of his little island, it didn’t mean he was alone.

The hangover, was completely worth it.


End file.
